


Shades

by Moontyger



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:38:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3128174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas knew both emotions and the spirits who embodied them so well that he thought he should be above actually feeling them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shades

Solas knew regret: knew its flavor and texture, every subtle shade it could wear and the way it changed over time, transforming into something so different from how it began that if it were possible to compare the throbbing new wound and the faded, but far deeper version, they might not seem the same thing at all. He knew it, though it might be more accurate to say he lived it, breathed it in with every breath, left it behind him like a trail of invisible footsteps.

He knew anger nearly as well – regret's brighter, hotter twin, fierce summer sun fading into the pale reflection of moonlight, the one becoming the other as time changed all things. (Changed everything more than he had ever expected or ever dreamed, in ways that hurt merely to see.) He knew both emotions so well, the emotions and the spirits that bore their names and function, and, because he did, he should be long past feeling them. It should be easy to rise above it all, to cease to care.

After all, he had so much practice at it.

But it had been so long. So long since he had lived, since his feet had walked the paths of this world on the other side of the Veil. Longer still since he had cared about anyone or had such foolish – such mortal – hopes, so long that he had believed himself incapable of it.

And yet, now that he felt the first twinges, he knew that he had had such hopes. When she had kissed him – this elven woman who knew nothing of her heritage, nothing of who or what she was or should be and even less of the mark on her hand and what it portended – he had told her it couldn't be, but part of him thought, _Perhaps._

Perhaps, when it came from him, was a word that could move mountains, could shake the world and remake it anew. It _was_ possibility, not a mere statement of it.

But he had forgotten what elves had become. Solas might take a new name, might wear a seemingly ordinary form, but he wasn't truly mortal. He hadn't counted on how impatient they could be.

He had refused her and she had accepted that and moved on. It was admirable, in a way; an action that spoke of good survival instincts, adapted to a lifespan whose brevity still brought him grief if he thought too much on it. Inquisitor Lavellan did not dwell on her disappointments or wallow in her pain. This would stand her in good stead in the days to come.

But standing here, watching her on the battlements with Cullen, one small pale hand clasped in both of his larger ones, her cheeks flushed as pink as the sunset staining the sky above, Solas did not feel admiration. He felt anger, his old companion, burning deep in his gut, making him want to lash out, mingled and twining with the regrets urging him to close his eyes and turn his back on them all.

He did neither. What good would it do? Should he strike down the Commander of the Inquisition's forces? He could do it easily enough, but what then? Should he kill the Inquisitor instead, damn her for a faithless traitor to her race, choosing to love a human when she knew what it meant for the Dalish clan she'd once thought to lead?

That would be a lie, at least in part – it wasn't her betrayal of her degraded heritage that truly angered him. Just another small untruth in the long series of lies he had told – so many that it seemed the weight of maintaining all his deceptions might one day bury him. Another would not add much to such a pile, nor bring it all tumbling down, but it would be pointless and her death would cost him much.

Leaving would be even easier. If he wished it, none would see him leave or be able to find him once he'd gone. But that would be nearly as costly and foolish besides. Solas was here for a reason, wore this name for a reason, and that reason had not changed, even if his heart had, even for a few moments only, strayed from his purpose.

So he watched and hardened his heart, turning the anger inward and letting it crystallize into diamond-hard resolve.

This was for the best. Her path could never lie with his, not for long. Not where he had to go; not for the tasks that still lay ahead of him. He could bear this pain, perhaps more easily for only having the hints of something more rather than the reality. Let her have her mortal lover and be happy for what time she had.

She had made her choice. She even dreamed of her Commander, armor shining in the sun as he smiled down at her and made her feel safe, protected from the chaos of a world rent nearly as asunder as the sky. And if sometimes she dreamed of Solas as well, dreams colored with the somber twilight shades of regret and wistful longing that he knew so intimately, Solas pretended not to see.


End file.
